


Sacrosanct

by Badwxlf



Series: Sanctified 'Verse [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Heirs Of Despair
Genre: F/F, Fantasizing, Guilt, Intimacy, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Prayer, Religious Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, poor Veda gets neglected by her own creator lol, sorta?? I make a lot of metaphors, y'know with how often I write abt D you'd think she was my character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:15:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25872703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badwxlf/pseuds/Badwxlf
Summary: Veda would smile a smile she’d only reserve for D, whisper D’s name in her ear. Giggle as she watched her shiver at the sound, heart racing as their breaths mingled between their parted lips.“You’re lovely,”Veda would tell her, and she’d mean it. She really would. D would know, would see it in the fondness of her eyes, wholly unguarded.“No other blessing could ever compare,”she’d say.
Relationships: D | Dahlia (Heirs of Despair)/Veda (Heirs of Despair), Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Sanctified 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877476
Kudos: 2





	Sacrosanct

**Author's Note:**

> _“And whatever you ask in prayer, you will receive, if you have faith.”_

Her skin would be soft, D thinks. Almost as soft as the woman herself, and just as warm. They’d lie together on a bed of furs and cozy cotton, cushioned by pillows stuffed with only the finest feathers. Indulgences D could never before afford for herself would cradle them both as they’d embrace each other, comfortable and content, perfectly safe and so delightfully, deliciously alone.

Veda would smile a smile she’d only reserve for D, whisper D’s name in her ear. Giggle as she watched her shiver at the sound, heart racing as their breaths mingled between their parted lips.

 _“You’re lovely,”_ Veda would tell her, and she’d mean it. She really would. D would know, would see it in the fondness of her eyes, wholly unguarded. _“No other blessing could ever compare,”_ she’d say.

Then, as D blinks away tears, Veda would nuzzle her face into the nape of D’s neck. Would breathe in her scent, press a kiss to her thundering pulse. The heat of her would radiate onto D’s skin and singe her sins from the outside in, cleansing her of her vices purely by means of acceptance.

D would allow Veda into the darkest of her depths and find them made brighter, consecration woven into her flesh upon each reverent touch. Every coarse scar would soon come to soften, to heal. She was chosen irregardless, loved all the same. Hallowed by the embrace of a woman far too kind to condemn.

Veda would let D touch her, and she would never flinch away. 

D suspects the joy in her heart could grow enough to kill her. It would threaten to overflow, exciting currents far too foreign, far too overwhelming for too withered a vessel. It would be a death she’d welcome, though. Martyrdom in the arms of a saint. It would be forgiveness found anew, sealed with a kiss brought to her lonely lips.

 _Goddess,_ _please,_ D would find herself praying, devout in her desperation. _Please let me have this,_ she’d beg.

With her braid undone, Veda’s hair would fan around them. Every strand would be silken to the touch. Veda would peel the last of her layers away, divest D of her own.

_I love her._

Their hands would travel, fingertips seeking sensitive flesh. It would be a beautiful thing to melt into each other’s arms. Every breath, every subsequent sigh would be the greatest, most holy hymn.

_Please, Goddess, don’t take her away—_

“Church girl? Really?”

D flinched, and her fantasy fell apart. It ruptured at the seams, gutted by a sharp, grating voice. 

Reality settled back into place. The campfire flickered before her. Epsilon perched on a log and strummed his little hurdy-gurdy as Darkeethus listened placidly to the side. Thiara innocently tossed treats to Ren along the edge of the tree line.

And Veda… Veda sat only a few feet away, looking to the night sky as sparks of lightning flared atop the leather of her gloves. D could still feel the ghost of her touch, and it ached.

Zulabar had pushed his way across her headspace to take center focus. He sneered. “Little miss goody-two-shoes?” he continued. “Again: _really?”_

Fuck. 

D groaned, suddenly exhausted. “Leave me alone,” she whispered.

“You think _she’d_ honestly want _you?”_ Zulabar asked, and it sounded so unnecessarily amused that D clenched her fists at her sides, incensed.

“If anyone could, it would be her.”

“Darlin’, she’s a prissy lil’ bitch. The Goddess fuckin’ loves her. For all the people that wouldn’t, that _shouldn’t_ , she’d be at the top of that list.”

“No,” D hissed. “She’s nice. Kind. She’s different.”

D knew Zulabar could sense her desperation, feel the fragile little seed of hope that took root within her. It must’ve been akin to a weed in his captious eyes. 

“You know that for sure?”

D grit her teeth, unwilling to dignify him with a response yet fully aware of how he didn’t need one, not really, to read her mind. Before he could taunt her once more, she shot up from her seat and pivoted swiftly, moving to return to her tent. She could sense how he delighted, so cruelly, in her heartbreak.

Veda, startled by D’s rapid rise, turned around before the other could make an exit. Her eyes were wide with concern, and the stars which she observed so carefully just moments ago seemed to twinkle within them, captured in the golden galaxy of her gaze.

“Is something the matter?” she asked, conscientious. Polite.

D tried to smile. It didn’t quite fit her face at the moment, and Zulabar’s laughter echoed through her head. “Nope, everything’s fine.”

But, of course, Veda could sense her discomfort. She instinctively shifted, poised to rise and approach D should she give the word.

“Truly?” Veda inquired, tilting her head. “But… You seem troubled. Please don’t hesitate to request of me whatever you would like.”

The fire danced across her features, lending her earthy lilac skin a warm glow. D’s fingers itched to reach forward, to close the distance between them. To caress Veda’s cheek and prove her demon wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. ‘M fine. Just tired.” 

Veda’s brow furrowed. She didn’t quite believe her, but how was she to know that she herself lay at the center of D’s discomfort? 

Sighing, D tried another excuse. “Alright,” she said. “I might be coming down with something, but still, I’ll be fine. I’ll just sleep it off.”

Veda rose fully then. She stepped closer to D, carefully closing the distance between them. D froze, stiffening as she fought the instinct to just step into the older woman’s arms. To embrace once more, as they did once upon a dream.

“If you suspect yourself ill, then please, allow me,” Veda said. She slipped one of her gloves off, leaving her palm bear. Gently, allowing D every opportunity to push her away, Veda’s hand glided onto D’s skin, brushing just underneath the curve of her horns and onto her forehead. Taking her temperature.

Veda waited a moment, considering. She made a thoughtful noise, before shifting her hand lower to cup D’s jaw. D’s eyes widened then, her pulse rapidly picking up pace. Briefly, she panicked, wondering if Veda could feel it, but before she could really react, Veda leaned forward. She pressed their foreheads together, eyes closed in concentration. Feeling, sensing, diagnosing.

It lasted merely a moment. D forgot to breathe, as if her desire threatened to escape her lips now that Veda’s own lingered mere inches away.

When Veda pulled back, she seemed more at ease, as if reassured. “You needn’t worry; it’s not a fever. Your temperature is normal, so perhaps you simply are fatigued,” she said softly, not unkindly. Instead of dislodging her hand, she began to delicately stroke D’s cheek with her thumb. “It’s rather late. Take care tonight and rest well, please. Dream sweetly.”

D knew it was merely a means of comfort, something Veda would probably offer to any one of their friends, but she couldn’t resist leaning into the touch. Couldn’t resist letting her eyes flutter shut for just a second to absorb the sensation, to imagine that it carried greater significance between them. She hoped Veda took her moment of weakness at face-value, though, assuming that she really was tired enough to sway where she stood.

She wasn’t ill. Lovesick, maybe.

D opened her eyes and Veda withdrew, looking fond and caring and well-meaning and literally every other emotion D was so, so unaccustomed to finding herself on the receiving end of. The realization made her dizzy, but she managed to stay on her feet.

“Thanks,” she murmured. “Uh, you too. Sweet dreams.”

“Thank you,” Veda smiled, tugging her glove back on. D watched the skin disappear dizzily, refusing to meet Veda’s eyes. She swallowed and headed back to her tent. A lump found its way into her throat and it seemed to choke her as she lay herself down upon her mat.

 _Please,_ D begged, praying to a Goddess she did not worship. A Goddess legitimized through Veda’s devotion alone. _Let her love me._

The memory of Veda’s touch burned painfully hot. Alone in her tent, D felt so very cold.

_Please love me._


End file.
